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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26024083">Strawberry Lies</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyctae/pseuds/Nyctae'>Nyctae</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hetalia: Axis Powers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Anorexia, Dialogue Heavy, Eating Disorders, F/M, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Rated M for Swearing, Smoking, Swearing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:40:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,002</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26024083</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyctae/pseuds/Nyctae</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Amelia's eating disorder still invades her thoughts from time to time. She tries to hide how it still affects her, which leads to her and Arthur having a discussion over McDonald's and <i>Sandlot</i>.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Female America/England (Hetalia)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Strawberry Lies</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p><b>Warning:</b> This story is about anorexia. There is eating disorder-esque language and thoughts throughout this. Please don't read if it will trigger you.<br/>Title change from "Smells Like Strawberries and Lies" to "Strawberry Lies" on 3 Oct. 2020.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>        Amelia woke up when her phone began to vibrate on her nightstand. She blindly grabbed at it before checking who would text her so early in the morning. Of course, it was Arthur.</p><p>        "<em>Are you still free today? </em>”</p><p>        “<em>hell yeah i am but why are you up so early </em>”</p><p>        “<em>It’s almost noon. </em>”</p><p>        “<em>and i was up until 6 finishing that stupid paper </em>”</p><p>        “<em>Not my fault you procrastinate. Is it good if I come by around 2? </em>”</p><p>        “<em>yeah </em>”</p><p>        Two hours was plenty of time to get ready.</p><p>        Two hours should have been plenty of time to get ready.</p><p>        But, of course, everything had to go wrong the day she and Arthur planned a date.</p><p>        She stood in the bathroom, staring unhappily at the image in the mirror. Did she really look like that? Did she really have that much fat on her? She knew that jumping between eating regularly and restricting would cause her metabolism to freak out and cause her weight to yo-yo. <em> But goddamn </em>.</p><p>        Praying that the bad thoughts would abate if she just got ready for the day, she settled into her daily routine. She washed her face, cleaned her teeth, and brushed her hair—thankful that there were no clumps of hair on the brush when she was finished.</p><p>        Afterwards, Amelia returned to her room and opened her closet. No outfit jumped out at her or even looked particularly appealing. She tried a short skirt and cropped sweatshirt. A glance at the mirror made her change her mind. How could someone’s chest look so tiny while their legs look that big?</p><p>        Maybe, it just wasn’t the right outfit. She decided leggings might make her legs appear curvier and a graphic tee would cover the dreaded sight of her stomach.</p><p>        When she went back to the mirror, Amelia decided she was wrong. The leggings did not help her legs look slimmer or accentuate her curves. Instead, she felt like a shapeless blob of skin and fat and organs, and she felt a pain in her chest when the t-shirt sleeves felt tight around her upper arm.</p><p>        God, why couldn’t anything just fit and not make her look awful?! She wanted to throw something, she wanted to scream, she wanted to smoke, she wanted to burn all of her clothes.</p><p>        Maybe they’d end up going to some fast food place or some 24-hour diner. She could get away with boyfriend jeans and an oversized sweater somewhere casual. </p><p>        She sighed at the sight of herself in the mirror. It was <em> fine </em>. It wasn’t horrible, and it didn’t make her want to throw up, but it wasn’t what she had wanted. She wanted to dress up and look nice. She wanted to be happy, not just okay with the outfit she was wearing. She wanted to be able to receive compliments and compliment herself for looking pretty.</p><p>        While doing her makeup was less of a disaster, it wasn’t perfect. She usually loved doing eye makeup and wearing fake lashes on a day she was going out, but this time she didn’t even bother. Based on the outfit fiasco, she had a feeling there would be crying by the end of the day.</p><p>        She finished her makeup with glittery lipgloss then checked her phone: 1:48. She should probably get her shoes. An accidental look at the mirror while passing caused the bubbling anger to return. She looked fucking awful! How did she think that she even looked okay? She looked like a blob with an ugly, round face!</p><p>        Amelia cursed at herself and her brain and whatever god damned her to be like this. She had been doing so well lately, but now that she and Arthur had free time together for the first time in a month, her brain decided that she can’t look good. She didn’t even want to get food anymore.</p><p>        Maybe she should just cancel. She’d just probably redirect her anger at Arthur, who had done nothing to deserve it.</p><p>        “<em>hey im really really really sorry but something came up. i dont think i can go out :( </em>” </p><p>        With a sigh, she hit the send button before venturing into the living room. She grabbed the lighter and package sitting on her coffee table and stepped out onto the balcony.</p><p>        Her anger ebbed away as she smoked, but her brain kept reminding her just how awful she looked, how she just could fix it by not eating or going out, how she could feel better by buying real cigarettes with nicotine.</p><p>        “Shit!” she hissed when she saw Arthur’s car pull into her driveway. She stomped the cigarette out and rushed back inside. In her room, she sprayed an overwhelmingly strawberry perfume on her clothes.</p><p>        There was a knock at the door. “Amelia? I just got your text. Everything okay?”</p><p>        She popped a mint in her mouth and dropped the pack and lighter into her purse before running to the door.</p><p>        She answered with a smile. “Hey, Arthur!”</p><p>        “Hi. Sorry, I was driving when you texted. What happened?”</p><p>        “Oh, nothing. Just gotta take care of some project for school,” she lied, keeping the smile plastered on her face.</p><p>        “I thought you did it last night?”</p><p>        “Oh, yeah, there was another one I forgot about.”</p><p>        Arthur nodded slowly before adding, “Well, do you want any help with your project? Then we can go out later, and if not, at least we got to spend some time together.”</p><p><em>         Fuck. </em> “Uhm…” She couldn’t just tell him no. She wanted to spend time with him; she just didn’t want him to see her like this. “I…” Amelia’s smile fell. “There’s no project.”</p><p>        “What? What’s going on?”</p><p>        “I’m just not feeling great, but you can come in if you want.” She moved away from her spot in the doorway to the couch, and Arthur followed.</p><p>        “Are you sick?” he asked as his hand touched Amelia’s forehead.</p><p>        She shut her eyes and shook her head. “No. It’s nothing. It’s just something stupid.”</p><p>        He sat down next to her and laced their fingers together. “I highly doubt that it is.”</p><p>        “But it is!” she groaned, resting her head on his shoulder.</p><p>        He planted a kiss on her forehead before freezing. “Have you been smoking?” When there was no response, he exclaimed, “You said you were going to quit!”</p><p>        “I am!”</p><p>        “You’ve been smoking!”</p><p>        “I’m trying, I swear—"</p><p>        “Oh yeah because smoking really seems like a good way to quit—”</p><p>        “They’re fucking tobacco-free, you dick!” she yelled, pulling her hand away from him. “Why would I lie to you about that?”</p><p>        “You just lied about being busy and having some big project!” Arthur’s voice rose to her volume.</p><p>        “Because I was trying to avoid this exact situation!”</p><p>        “What the hell is going on, Amelia?”</p><p>        “None of your business!” She stopped and took a few breaths. She lowered her voice, “I’m sorry. I’m working on quitting, but days like today happen, and I just need something. If you don’t believe me, the pack’s in my purse.”</p><p>        The next few minutes were completely still and tense before Arthur responded, “No, I believe you. I shouldn’t have started yelling at you right away.”</p><p>        “Nah, I started yelling. You just got pissed, and I get why you did.”</p><p>        “You and I both know it’s not the best way to deal with our issues... I’m obviously not thrilled about you smoking anything, but it’s progress, and that’s important. But I’m more concerned about what’s going on with you.”</p><p>        “I don’t want to go get food,” she mumbled.</p><p>        “What?”</p><p>        “I don’t want to go get food,” she repeated louder.</p><p>        “Why not?”</p><p>        “Because I look like shit! I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it! I’m starving—” she backtracked at Arthur’s deeply concerned expression, “Not like in a literal sense but like I didn’t have breakfast or anything, and I couldn’t find anything to wear that didn’t make me feel like total shit. I literally look like a blobfish. You’re dating a blobfish.”</p><p>        He wrapped an arm around her. “You don’t look like a blobfish. You’re very beautiful.” He frowned when she snorted. “You are!”</p><p>        “I have no shape. I have fat cheeks, no tits, and monstrous thighs—”</p><p>        “Your face is just round, and it’s adorable,” he murmured, kissing her cheeks. “Your thighs look nicer than those girls with super thin legs,” he continued, placing his hands on her legs. “And I personally think your tits are quite nice.”</p><p>        Amelia sighed and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in the crook of his neck. “I appreciate the sentiment, but it’s not helping at all. I know you’re trying to make me feel better, but it’s just gonna seem like empty words to be me right now.”</p><p>        “But it’s true—!”</p><p>        “I know logically that it is, but it’s just hard to explain. Like I’m healthy enough to get what you mean logically, but it’s not just gonna fix how I feel.”</p><p>        Arthur sighed and pulled her closer, running his fingers through her hair. “I’m sorry. Is there something that will help?”</p><p>        “Can we just stay here tonight? I really don’t want to go out.”</p><p>        “Sure. Do you want to order pizza?”</p><p>         She shook her head. “I have like half the menu’s nutrition facts memorised.”</p><p>        “Then what if I pick up Italian?”</p><p>         “Eh…”</p><p>        After tossing out a few more ideas that were shut down, he asked, “Do you have any ideas?”</p><p>        “It’s gonna sound stupid…”</p><p>        Arthur shrugged. “Better than nothing.”</p><p>        “McDonald’s?”</p><p>        “Really?”</p><p>        “McDonald’s just made me feel better as a kid, okay? Then I didn’t get to have it anymore because I got all fat, and I haven’t had it often since high school because of the whole shitshow that was last year.”</p><p>        “I didn’t mean to make it sound judgemental. I can go pick up McDonald’s.”</p><p>        “Really?”</p><p>        “Mhm. What do you want?”</p><p>        “Cheeseburger, small fries, and a milkshake?”</p><p>        “What kind?”</p><p>        “Strawberry, duh.” </p><p>        “How about you get comfy and put on a film, and then we can cuddle when I return.”</p><p>        “Sounds like a plan.”</p>
<hr/><p>        When Arthur returned, bag and milkshake in hand, Amelia was sprawled out on the couch in shorts and one of his old sweatshirts.</p><p>        “Do you have it?” she asked, sounding much more excited than she had earlier.</p><p>        Arthur placed the contents of the bag on the coffee table before settling on the couch and pulling Amelia on his lap. “I got a large fry so we could share.”</p><p>        She frowned at him. “You’re using that trick again?”</p><p>        “Mhm.”</p><p>        She sighed and grabbed her milkshake before leaning back against him. “Thank you.”</p><p>        “For what?”</p><p>        “For helping. I know I’m difficult, and I know you don’t understand, but you’re genuinely trying even though I ruin everything, like date night.”</p><p>        “We’re still on a date.”</p><p>        She shook her head. “Barely.”</p><p>        “Well, we’re together for the first time in a month, and even though today’s not been your best, you’ve been doing well.”</p><p>        “I guess.”</p><p>        Arthur pressed a kiss to her cheek. “No, you really have. This time last year, you would’ve cried if I suggested we share food, you wouldn’t have gotten a milkshake, and you would’ve spent half of dinner smoking on the balcony.”</p><p>        Amelia winced. “I’m sorry you had to deal with all of that.”</p><p>        “The point is that you’re doing much better, and even if you’re having a shit day, you’re doing so much better than before. I’m proud of you.”</p><p>        She smiled at him. “And you said you weren’t romantic when I asked you out.”</p><p>        “Shush, drink your milkshake.”</p><p>        She laughed and handed him the remote before taking a sip. “Fuck, I forgot how good these are.”</p><p>        Arthur smiled and turned on the TV while Amelia turned around to face the screen. “Let’s watch something happy.”</p><p>        “Ooh, have you seen <em> Sandlot </em>?”</p><p>        He shook his head.</p><p>        With a faux, exasperated sigh, Amelia grabbed the remote to find the film. “And you say my family is uncultured,” she muttered under her breath.</p><p>        “Oh shush, just turn it on and grab the fries.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading! I haven't written Hetalia fanfiction in about 5 years, but I decided to go for it.<br/>Feel free to leave any errors I made or criticism in the comments.<br/>If you enjoyed this, you should check me out on Instagram: <a href="https://www.instagram.com/vi.nyctae/?hl=en">@vi.nyctae</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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